Blow My Mind
by MintSauce
Summary: There are not even words to summarise this. I'm not even going to try. Just read and question my mental state! Rated high for Mickey's language and because I want to be safe .


**Please blame SmokeMyCancer for posting the lyrics of this song on Tumblr and the four cans of Coca-Cola I've had as to why the fuck I wrote this fic. My brain is random! Enjoy. . . (ps. Play the song while you're reading, it's what I listened to all the way through).**

The time that Mickey decided he was in love with Ian Gallagher, or at least as close to being in love as he was ever going to get, wasn't when Gallagher was buried balls deep in his ass actually. Surprisingly. No, instead it was during one of the completely random moments when they weren't fucking, the rare ones.

It was too hot, too hot to be fucking, but Gallagher had come over to his house anyway since nobody was in and Mickey figured they could still at least jack off or something and at the very least he got to watch Gallagher sitting in his room with no shirt on because it was far too hot.

They had the radio on to break the brief moments of silence when Gallagher wasn't talking and they were sitting side by side on the bed, smoking a joint. Mickey could feel himself relaxing. Relaxing enough that he was almost smiling at the shit that Ian said. Relaxing enough that he thought maybe he was happy, he probably was. And that was strange, because Mickey could safely say that he wasn't genuinely happy very often. He just wasn't. There wasn't a lot of shit in his life to be happy about.

He'd already worked out quite a while ago, probably when Gallagher had turned up at his door all wide-eyed and panicked and even more probably when Kash had pulled that fucking trigger, he'd worked out then that he was probably, maybe in love with Ian Gallagher. He at the very least liked him, was in love with him.

He knew Gallagher was hot, he always had been he realised when he looked back, but with Gallagher's hair all chopped off and muscles in places where there hadn't been any before. Well, Gallagher was _definitely_ the most beautiful thing Mickey had ever seen. He wouldn't ever admit that, would never tell Gallagher that. Not even when they were both as high as fuck, a little bit drunk even though it was the middle of the day and Ian was all red-faced and glassy-eyed from the weed and all sweaty from the heat and Mickey was wondering who the fuck gave Gallagher the right to have that face. He wouldn't even tell him then. And Mickey made sure of that, he was biting the inside of his fucking cheek to make sure he didn't tell him that.

The music on the radio was requests and so it was pretty fucking shit, but then a song came on that Mickey hadn't actually heard before, but immediately thought was stupid. Gallagher stopped mid-sentence and a smile slowly spread across his face, threatening to split it in two or something.

"_Oh Mickey you're so fine, you're so fine, you blow my mind, hey Mickey, hey hey, hey Mickey."_

Gallagher kept on grinning at him, his eyes shining and Mickey knew he was only looking at him like that because he was fucking high and Mickey also knew he wasn't instantly punching Gallagher because he was right up there with him. But he sort of wished he could be bothered to get up and change radio stations, because then Gallagher started to fucking sing along and Mickey was pretty sure his world imploded. Right then. It all went ka-boom. Or maybe that was Mickey's brain. He was pretty sure if he looked, it would be splattered all over the wall behind him and his sanity would be lying in pieces on the floor.

Ian kept on singing, but it was when he started to wiggle right where he was sitting, trying to dance without really moving that Mickey twisted sideways and face-planted his pillow. He lifted the edges, pressing it over his ears and trying to drown out the noise. He didn't even give a shit about the heat.

But he could still hear Ian laughing as he rolled Mickey over onto his back and he could feel the redhead straddle his hips, still singing away like this was fucking normal for them. And when he took hold of the pillow and pulled, Mickey was holding on so tightly, keeping his face covered because he thought he was actually fucking smiling, Ian just pulled him right up until they were chest to chest, the pillow pressed against Ian's collarbones and Mickey's face still buried safely in it.

Ian laughed again, his arms wrapping around Mickey's shoulders, holding him and still singing. He was putting on a stupid voice now as he sang and it only made it worse. And Mickey was getting too hot with all the bodily contact and beyond all reasoning his dick was twitching in his pants and he knew that Gallagher could feel it. So he did the first thing that came into his head and he twisted them both hard, the pillow getting tossed aside as they both landed hard on the floor. He slammed Ian into the ground with the full weight of his body, knowing that Ian was arching uncomfortably because of the shoe that was stuffed under his back.

The air rushed out of Ian's lungs loudly, almost dramatically, but he kept on grinning right up at Mickey and Mickey rolled his eyes because he couldn't be bothered to sneer. He was too fucking high. "I fucking hate you," he said, but he couldn't understand why he was laughing out those words. He thought maybe there was something about Ian being happy that was infectious. He thought maybe it was because he was high. He thought maybe it was just because.

"No you don't," Ian said, grinning. He was over-confident because he was right.

And they both knew it. Mickey didn't hate Ian. Or maybe he did. Maybe he did hate Ian. He thought he probably did. He hated Ian more than anybody else, because Ian had gotten under his skin, Ian had made him feel and had made him care. And Mickey didn't know how to do that sort of shit, but suddenly he was doing it anyway. He hated Ian because he loved him more than he had ever loved anything else.

He hated Ian because right then he wanted to lean down and kiss that stupid fucking mouth more than he'd ever wanted to do anything in his life. So he did, hard and quick. Practically brutal. And Ian was still laughing, but it turned into a gasp of surprise that Mickey could taste on his tongue and then he pulled back too soon and grinned a little even as he gave Ian a dead arm for no reason at all.

He hated Ian because all the kid did in response was to grin, his eyes shining as he sang out the words, _"Oh Mickey, you're so pretty, won't you understand?"_ in time with the radio and Mickey bent back down to kiss him hard just to shut him the fuck up. He thought that had probably been the whole idea behind it to be honest.

Of course, later when he found out Ian had been the one who'd sent the text in to the radio station to play that stupid fucking song anyway, he pretended he didn't have a clue. Because then he'd have to react and he didn't particularly want to. What he did do however was pinch Ian's nipple and twist, calling him a devious little shit right before shoving his tongue down his throat.

He figured maybe the whole kissing thing wasn't such a bad idea after all. Not that he was going to admit to that. Just like he wasn't going to admit that he may or may not have put that song on his IPod, just to listen to for shits and giggles you know. Not because it meant something. His finger had just slipped and clicked the button by accident.

_Accident_! He'd shoot any fucker who said otherwise.


End file.
